Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Life is looking up

So I just spent the past 20 minutes chasing Chickens as he ran in circles around the living floor and under the bed.

Yes, ran.

It's wobbly, and there are plenty of stumbles, especially when he gets to the hardwood floor. But it is an unmistakable run, complete with a curly-tail wag and a big old Chickenbone grin.

Unfortunately, I have no such positive news on the bathroom front. In fact, I just got done expressing his bladder in the back yard (where, I might point out, he did more gleeful circle-runs beneath the big peppercorn tree). Do you realize we have been helping this dog go pee five times per day for four months? FOUR. Friends, that is a LOT of canine-bladder-squeezing. The pooping situation also remains the same. In fact, the day after my post about the housekeeping, a girlfriend and her 2-year-old daughter stopped by for a visit. Again, Chickens got so excited that he pooped. Again, nobody saw it. Again, my guest accidentally stepped in it, smooshing poop all over her pretty shoe and leaving me completely mortified. (On the plus side, you can totally tell who your friends are by how gracious they are when your home is a minefield of dog crap.)

But overall, I'd say we are adjusting. And it's moments like right now, with Chickens contentedly sitting in my lap as I write this (and Mia dozing in her swing, in my freshly cleaned house) that I just can't believe how far we've come. I mean, remember when I was going to pieces over having to "tail-walk" Chickens everywhere he went? While also holding my wiggly infant? And remember how he'd drive me crazy by barking at me to put him on the couch when I was feeding Mia? And this isn't even going back to the REAL dark days of Chickens with a giant gash down his back, weeping in his cage for hours on end. Of packing our newborn into the car in the middle of the cold winter night to drive to the animal hospital, again. Of Chickens refusing to eat because he was in too much pain, which also meant he wouldn't eat treats filled with medication, so Sal had to wrestle him down and shove food down his throat. Of his lifeless legs that never, ever moved. Man, those were some hopeless days. How far we have come!

Chickens is such a happy dog now. He has recently been discovered by his sister, who stares at him intently and reaches out to clutch his fur. He returns the affection by trying to jam his tongue down her throat as far as possible. The other day I thought he was being a little rough with her, so I reached over and gently batted him back a bit, but Mia just cracked up laughing. Those two are pretty adorable together.

Yes, it's a pain in the ass to do the bladder thing. And to pick up the poop. But you guys, we are pretty much down to these two issues. Out of all those countless problems and endless days and nights of worry and frustration and sadness, we're down to TWO problems. Uh, I'M PRETTY SURE WE CAN HANDLE IT. And that's the big difference between now and then. Now I know our little family can definitely handle it.

And if he never pees or poops right again? Well, we'll just have to focus on the good stuff.

4 comments:

Sal Pizarro
said...

So, as I am reading this post and eating a piece of cinnamon toast, I'm so elated with little Chickenbone that I bundle him up onto my lap. In his fun little way, he starts trying to get my napkin (used napkins and used Kleenex are his absolute favorite things). How CUTE! And then I notice the smell. He's crapping right on my pants and onto the floor. There is an actual crap stain on my khakis. But I still love you, Chickenbone.

Who is Chickenbone Jones?

Chickenbone is my little red dog, a chihuahua-pug-dachsund mix. A "chugweenie," if you are into that sort of thing. This blog is named for him, with a bit of help from a famous mystery rap star. Read about that here.